Padfoot?
by Padfootz-luvr
Summary: REVISED EDITION:: What if Sirius didn't hunt out Peter after he went to Godric's Hollow? What if he stayed with Harry at the Dursley's house...but with a catch? AU
1. Chapter One: Sirius' Decision

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**Padfoot?**

**by**

**Padfootz-luvr**

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**A/N: **To those who have beared with me throughout the years, I thank you, and I apologize profusely. To those just joining us: Welcome! This story has been a big, fat, work-in-progress for almost three years now, and I almost abandoned it. ALMOST. Then I sat down, re-read what I had written, and, before I knew it, I made the conscious decision to correct all grammatical and punctuation errors, and to add to it a bit, give it more dimension and depth. So now here we are, reader and author, ready to embark on a new, perilous journey. This time, I primise to not abandon the wheel of the ship.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** :le sigh: I don't own Harry Potter or anythign else you recognize, blah, blah, blah, etc.

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**Chapter One:**

**Sirius' Decision**

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"There are bridges we cross 

we didn't know we crossed

until we'd crossed..."-_Wicked_, the musical

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"Lily! James!" Sirius Black's voice called in vain. He was at Godric's Hollow, looking at the charred remains of the once-regal home that had been in the Potter family for years. _I used to live in this home..._Sirius remembered, staring at the charred remains of the kitchen. _I ate in this kitchen..._In his mind's eye, Sirius saw Mrs. Potter, James' mother, happily serving the two sixteen-year-olds breakfast as they enthusiastically discussed their plans for the day. 

Snapping out of his reverie, the young man leapt forward, intent on finding his best friends alive among the ashes and burnt wood that was scattered around the large lot. His hopes fizzled and died out like a used candle as he saw the shattered pieces of spectacles; James' spectacles. He fell forward on his knees, unconscious of the hard pieces of rubble digging itno his flesh.

Not thinking rationally, Sirius gingerly picked the pieces and the bent frames, muttering a repairing spell before resuming his search. _James hates it when he loses his glasses, _Sirius thought._ I have to get them to him...  
_

The young man stopped walking as he felt something soft beneath his foot. He stepped back as though burnt, staring down at the bit of blue silk that was peeking out from under a board, noticing that it was badly singed. _James' robes..._ He knelt down, timidly moving the long two-by-four that hid the rest of the robes...and the wearer. He let out a strangled gasp as he saw the still-warm body of his best friend of over ten years who was more like his brother than just his friend, James Potter.

"No, no, no!" Sirius cried, shaking James by the shoulders. "Wake up, Prongs! Wake up..." Frantically he shook his fellow Marauder, choking on his own sobs as realization slowly seeped into his mind... James wasn't going to wake up, not now, not ever. With a heavy heart, Sirius lifted a shaking hand and closed the lids of James' lifeless, glassy hazel eyes that had once held such warmth and mirth.

Looking up from his friends cold body, Sirius saw through his bleary tears a flash a scarlet that Sirius barely registered as Lily's hair peeking out from beneath the white and blue door that Sirius knew had led to Harry's nursery. Sirius crawled over to the door to see Lily's once vibrant, now dead green eyes staring blankly at him. Sirius hands were numb as he also closed her eyelids.

All of a sudden a pain-filled cry rang through the air and Sirius saw a large shape in the shadows. Recognizing the cry to be that of a baby (Harry, to be exact) Sirius stumbled over to the looming figure. Once he was close enough Sirius placed a name to the whiskery face.

"Hagrid..." Sirius whispered brokenly, saying the man's name mroe like a prayer than a recognizing acknowledgement.

The half-giant's broad arms were very maternally cradling a screaming bundle of blankets.

"'Ello, Sirius," the half-giant's voice mumbled in a very miserable way. He sounded as though he had been crying.

"Hagrid," Sirius repeated, louder this tiem to be heard over the infant's cries. "Is...is that Harry?"

"Aye, it is. Little tyke somehow survived; got a nasty cut on 'is for'ead, though..." the huge man trailed off, gesturing to the lightning-bolt-shaped cut on the infant's brow.

"How...he's alive...?" Sirius gasped, leaving the unanswered question hanging in the air.

Hagrid was obviously wondering the same thing. "I dunno, but somehow You-Know-Who disappeared."

Sirius didn't even attempt to retain this information at the moment, but instead hushed his godson and held out his arms to take him.

Hagrid easily allowed the grieving man to him take the baby out of his arms, still talking though his ears fell on deaf ears.

Harry quieted immediately and snuggled up to the animagus' chest comfortably.

"An' now I gotta take 'im to 'is Aunt and Uncle's house in Little Whinging," Harid continued.

At this Sirius head snapped up."What! No, no...No, Hagrid, I'm his godfather, let me take him," he pleaded. "Lily and J-James," his voice cracked as he said their names, "made me his guardian if anything ever-ever happened to them..."

"I-I...I can't, Sirius," Hagrid said regretfully. Now that the little one was quieter, the gamkeeper gently took Harry from his godfather, though the child opened his bright emerald eyes in protest. "Dumbledore's orders. He's meeting me by the Dursleys' house."

At that moment Sirius realized what Dumbledore must think. He didn't know they had switched secret keepers; he would think Sirius had betrayed them. Sirius stomach lurched. The thought of selling his best friends out to Voldemort made him sick, and now...everyone would think that he had done just that. But he hadn't! No...Then another thought crept into his mind: Peter.

Peter had betrayed them. Peter had sold them to Voldemort. They had trusted him, and he deceived them...deceived them all...knowingly destroyed his best friends! Anger boiled up inside Sirius' gut, and only one cohernet thought made its way through the boiling rage: _Must find Peter._

"Fine," Sirius said in a stony cold voice. "Take my bike, it'll get you there faster." His voice was dead and hollow as he motioned to the oversized motorcycle near the ruins of the house. "I don't need it anymore." He started to leave, to seek out his former friend, now sworn enemy, but a child's cry stopped him.

"Pabfood!" Harry cried. "Pabfood!" Sirius halted dead in his tracks. _I failed James once_, he thought. _I won't fail him again! _Turning on his heel he made his way back to Hagrid, decision made and set into the stone of his mind.

"On second thought," he said in falsely cheerful tone. "I'll come with you." He hopped onto his bike, Hagrid following him, and, over the roar of the engine, Sirius told his comrade all about the Fidelus Charm and how Peter had betrayed James and Lily Potter.

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**A/N:** Love it? Hate it? Somewhere in between? Let me know! Everything from suggestions to squees to flames are welcome! 


	2. Chapter Two: Staying

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**Padfoot?**

**by**

**Padfootz-luvr**

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**A/N:** To those who have beared with me throughout the years, I thank you, and I apologize profusely. To those just joining us: Welcome! This story has been a big, fat, work-in-progress for almost three years now, and I almost abandoned it. ALMOST. Then I sat down, re-read what I had written, and, before I knew it, I made the conscious decision to correct all grammatical and punctuation errors, and to add to it a bit, give it more dimension and depth. So now here we are, reader and author, ready to embark on a new, perilous journey. This time, I primise to not abandon the wheel of the ship.

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**Disclaimer:** :le sigh: I don't own Harry Potter or anythign else you recognize, blah, blah, blah, etc.

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**Chapter Two:**

**Staying**

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"Maybe I'm brainless,

Maybe I'm wise,

But you've got me seeing

though different eyes..."-_Wicked_

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Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry, had been talking to Minerva Mcgonagall for a while, listening to her reasons against Harry's staying with the Dursley's. Suddenly, there was a great rumbling in the sky and an enormous, black motorcycle fell out of the cloud cover. Sirius was obscured from their vision by Hagrid's bulking form, so the Hogwarts professors didn't notice him at first.

"Hagrid," Dumbledore called to him in his usual calm voice. "At last. Wherever did you acquire that motorcycle?"

"He didn't 'acquire' it," called the last voice Dumbledore expected to hear. "I let him use it."

"Sirius Black," Dumbledore said, slightly surprised. McGonagall cautiously drew out her wand, having only recently been informed of Sirius Black's supposed secret-keeperhood. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to tell you, Professor," the younger man said, stepping forward into the motorcycle's headlights so they could see him.

"I didn't betray Lily and James."

"Rubbish!" McGonagall fumed. "We are not imbeciles, Black! We know you were their secret-keeper!"

"Professors," came Hagrid's deep voice. "'E told me 'is story, an' I believe 'im. Just hear 'im out?"

McGonagall's lips formed a thin, white line but she didn't say anything. Dumbldore nodded his head, giving Sirius his consent to continue. Sirius immediately launched into his explanation. When Sirius had finally finished, they all stared at him in shocked silence.

"P-Peter Pettigrew?" McGongall whispered in disbelief.

"Yes! I would _never_ betray Lily, or James! James was like my brother you know that! You _have_ to believe me!" There was a pause, then: "You..._do_ believe me, don't you?" Sirius asked, half pleading. Another pause, and then:

"Yes."

Sirius looked at Dumbledore in shock; even though it was his only hope, Sirius had known that his story sounded far-fetched and that it would be hard to believe. Dumbledore gave the tiniest hint of a smile, and the familiar twinkle appeared behind his half-moon spectacles as he repeated his answer: "Yes, I believe you." The ancient headmaster walked slowly toward Hagrid, who was holding the sleeping baby. "Now, the question is, what are we going to do about Harry? We have to-"

"Let him stay with me! I'm his godfather!" Sirius interjected, walking briskly over to Hagrid, who readily allowed Harry's godfatehr to hold him. "Lily and James wanted me to take him if anythign ever happened to them...and now..." Sirius voice trailed off as he looked down at Harry, and his present company, although he hadn't moved he hadn't made a sound, all swore that he had begun to cry. "Please..."

"But," Dumbledore reminded him. "These are his only living relatives. They offer the protection of Lily's blood that runs in Petunia Dursley's, and Harry's veins."

"But...Professor..." Sirius objected weakly. "I-I have nowhere to go...Harry's my godson, he's like a son to me...please, isn't there someway I can stay with him?"

"I'm sorry, Sirius, but I can't think of any possible option," Dumbledore said solemnly. The ancient man held out his arms for the sleeping infant, whom Sirius handed over reluctantly.

Sirius' breathing hitched as he processed this new information. He didn't think there was any way he could go on, knowing that he wouldn't be there for James' son as he was growing up. _I have to find Peter..._he thought, decidign that he would fidn the man who had done this, and make him pay. Then, a thought struck him.

"Wait!" he said, making Hagrid, McGonagall, and Dumbledore turn away from Harry's sleeping bundle that they had just lain on the door step. He thought quickly, choosing his words and actions carefully.

"I-I think I know a way I can stay with him!" As he finished these words, the young man promptly showed them his idea, causing the Hogwarts employees gasp. He wagged his ebony tail imploringly, making Dumbledore chuckle.

"You always were one of my most brilliant students," McGonagall sighed, the tiniest of grins tugging at the corner of her tight lips.

"Yes, well," Dumbledore said, pickign up the explanatory note he had left with Harry. "I think we need to alter that letter to include a dog named Padfoot."

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**A/N:** Love it? Hate it? Somewhere in between? Let me know! Everything from suggestions to squees to flames are welcome!


	3. Chapter Three: The Years Fly By

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* * *

**

**Padfoot?**

**by**

**Padfootz-luvr**

**

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**

**A/N:** To those who have beared with me throughout the years, I thank you, and I apologize profusely. To those just joining us: Welcome! This story has been a big, fat, work-in-progress for almost three years now, and I almost abandoned it. ALMOST. Then I sat down, re-read what I had written, and, before I knew it, I made the conscious decision to correct all grammatical and punctuation errors, and to add to it a bit, give it more dimension and depth. So now here we are, reader and author, ready to embark on a new, perilous journey. This time, I primise to not abandon the wheel of the ship.

**

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**

**Disclaimer:** :le sigh: I don't own Harry Potter or anythign else you recognize, blah, blah, blah, etc.

**

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**

**Chapter Three:**

**The Years Fly By**

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"Take me for what I am

Who I was meant to be..."-_RENT_, the musical

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"Up! Get up! Now!" Aunt Petunia's familiar screech penetrated the rough sanctuary that was Harry's "room", if one could call a little space under the stairs a room. The eleven-year-old boy sat up from his makeshift pillow, which also happened to be his dog Padfoot.

"Up!"

Harry sat up, stifling a groan that he knew would only irritate his aunt. He'd been having a quite pleasant dream about a giant, a flying motorcycle, and someone... in his grogginess, Harry couldn't place a face with a name, but he had seemed intensely familiar.

"Are you up yet?" came another impatient squawk from Mrs. Dursley.

"Nearly," Harry called back, dressing quickly. As Harry opened the door and sunlight from the front windows streamed in, Padfoot opened one slate grey eye, yawning. Harry always wondered about Padfoot's odd, pale eyes...he had never seen a dog with eyes any color other than brown, or the occasional blue in certain breeds.

Shaking his head of messy black hair, Harry put the thought at the back of his mind and called to his only companion and friend: "Come on, Padfoot."

The huge, grim-like dog followed Harry into the kitchen, where his aunt and uncle already began ordering him about. He was to make breakfast for his cousin Dudley's eleventh birthday.

Trying to tune Dudley's complaints about the number of presents he received this year versus last year, Harry hid his surprise that the obese child could count at all.

Harry went about his normal routine, serving everyone else before sitting down himself, then graciously accepting his small amount of food. During breakfast Harry managed to slip Padfoot a few pieces of bacon out of his own meager portions.

Padfoot always felt bad about this, but whenever he tried to refuse, Harry wouldn't take the food back.

Just as another petty argument broke out between Vernon and his son, the phone rang. No doubt hoping it was another juicy piece of gossip about those new neighbors across the street, Petunia went off to answer it.

Moments later she came back, Her face pinched in displeasure. Vernon and Dudley immediately noticed this and looked at her questioningly.

"That was Mrs. Figg," she answered the unasked question. "She can't watch him or the mutt," she finished, glaring at both the latter and the former in turn as though they had something to do with it. Padfoot bristled angrily at this but kept quiet. After all, what could he do? The most was bite one of them, but he knew for a fact that the second he attacked a Dursley he would eb sent to the pound, without a way to keep Harry safe.

Harry suggested that he just stay home with Padfoot, but the Dursleys would hear none of it, saying that the two would probably blow the house up. _Only if we _absolutely _couldn't help ourselves_, Sirius thought mischievously.

"We'll leave the dog at home, then," Vernon concluded. Sirius sighed, putting his head on his paws. At least while they were gone he could resume his human form...it would be the first time in a month, and he couldn't wait to stretch his limbs, maybe take a decent shower.

Once he was sure they had gone, Padfoot turned back into Sirius, hurrying to the kitchen to eat some normal human food. Afterward he carried out with his plans for taking a shower, then lay down on the couch, and closed his eyes to rest. He relished in times like these, where he could be in his human form. The only thing that would be better is if Harry knew about his true form, and they could live somewhere, far, far from the Dursleys.

"Oh well," Sirius sighed out loud, his voice scratchy from being without use for so long. "Someday..."

Suddenly there was a screech in the driveway, then the sound of a car door slamming, soon followed by the pounding of feet stomping into the house.

With a quiet curse Sirius transformed back into Padfoot, padding softly to the foyer to watch the spectacle curiously.

Vernon yelling angrily about snakes and 'funny business'. Unfortunately for the large dog on the floor, Vernon's warpath happened to plow right through where Padfoot was laying. With a cross between a growl and a curse, Vernon furiously threw (or, rather, pushed) Padfoot into the cupboard, lockign Harry in there as well. Harry, who regarded Padfoot as his only friend, confided in him the story.

"It was weird, like magic. I talked to the snake, and it understood, and then it _talked_ and _I_ understood," Harry explained quietly, avoiding the Dursley's wrath once more. He turned his bespectacled emerald gaze onto his dog's, and was almost frightened by the appraising emotion that he saw there. Then, like a flash, it was gone and the dog's shaggy head was comfortingly on Harry's knee once more.

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**A/N:** Love it? Hate it? Somewhere in between? Let me know! From suggestions to squees to flames, I don't care! I just want to hear your opinion!

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	4. Chapter Four: The Voice in the Kitchen

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* * *

**

Padfoot?

**by**

**Padfootz-luvr**

* * *

**A/N: **To those who have beared with me throughout the years, I thank you, and I apologize profusely. To those just joining us: Welcome! This story has been a big, fat, work-in-progress for almost three years now, and I almost abandoned it. ALMOST. Then I sat down, re-read what I had written, and, before I knew it, I made the conscious decision to correct all grammatical and punctuation errors, and to add to it a bit, give it more dimension and depth. So now here we are, reader and author, ready to embark on a new, perilous journey. This time, I primise to not abandon the wheel of the ship.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** :le sigh: I don't own Harry Potter or anythign else you recognize, blah, blah, blah, etc.

* * *

**Chapter Four:**

**The Voice in the Kitchen**

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"I've got another confession to make:

I'm no fool..."-_Best of You_, Foo Fighters

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After spending what seemed like an endless amount of time in the cupboard with little water or food, Harry emerged, even thinner and paler than usual, around the time the summer holidays had begun.

Harry wasn't sure if he would or would not be looking forward to the next leg of his educational 'adventure': on one hand, he wouldn't be attending the same school as Dudley; however, on the other hand, it would mean longer school days with less time to see Padfoot.

When July rolled around and Dudley went with Petunia to buy his school uniform, Harry was left with their neighbor Mrs. Figg, as usual. He brought Padfoot over to her house, expecting the usual pictures of cats and chronic smell of tuna, but was instead allowed to watch television and eat a (very old) chocolate cake.

As Harry was drifting off to sleep on the lumpy couch, he heard the sound of a door closing, and raised his head to see the room deserted. Neither Padfoot nor Mrs. Figg were anywhere to be seen, but the eleven-year-old definitely heard someone talking in the kitchen.

Harry silently padded to the kitchen door, casually leaning against it just the tiniest bit, only to find it locked. Perplexed, Harry frowned: there had never been a lock on the kitchn door before...

He crept even close to he door, careful to keep quiet, and listened at the door. Feeling rather silly, he heard Mrs. Figg talking to herself, mumbling disapprovingly about Harry's long stay in the cupboard under the Dursleys' stairs.

To Harry's astonishment, he heard another voice answer his batty old neighbor's. The new voice was a male's, not very deep, and sounded relatively young.. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but definitely heard his name a couple of times, and the word "parselmouth", whatever that meant.

Harry heard the man's voice move over by the door, and Harry ran back to the sofa for a second, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. The man said some odd word and the door unlatched, starting to swing open, when Mrs. Figg's voice called out warningly, with a slightly panicked edge to it:

"No, Black, don't!"

The door swung closed again, and Harry heard the man curse softly. Then there was a small pop. Harry heard Mrs. Figg's reprimanding voice scolding the man about something, but Harry didn't bother to pay attention. He hurried to lay back down on the couch, closing his eyes and then he pretended to be back to sleep.

The door opened once more, and Harry heard Padfoot's soft feet on the hardwood floor, nails clicking loudly, but the small boy still feigned slumber. He felt Padfoot's cold nose rub his cheek for a second, then felt the large dog climb next to him the on the couch.

Harry heard no more of the man's voice that afternoon, but knew something was going on, and it had to do with his dog.

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**A/N:** Thanks to ALL of my wonderful reviewers! You guys make my day! Tell me what you think! I know this one was short...but there'll be a longer one posted soon!

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	5. Chapter Five: The First Letter

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**Padfoot?**

**by**

**Padfootz-luvr**

* * *

**A/N: **To those who have beared with me throughout the years, I thank you, and I apologize profusely. To those just joining us: Welcome! This story has been a big, fat, work-in-progress for almost three years now, and I almost abandoned it. ALMOST. Then I sat down, re-read what I had written, and, before I knew it, I made the conscious decision to correct all grammatical and punctuation errors, and to add to it a bit, give it more dimension and depth. So now here we are, reader and author, ready to embark on a new, perilous journey. This time, I primise to not abandon the wheel of the ship.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** :le sigh: I don't own Harry Potter or anythign else you recognize, blah, blah, blah, etc.

* * *

**Chapter Five:**

**The First Letter**

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"I'm far from lonely

and it's all that I've got..."-_All That I've Got_, the Used

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Harry set about the Dursley's house as usual, cleaning odd bits and pieces of the useless objects that they collected from various vacations, none of which he had been allowed to attend.

It was early morning, the day after his visit to Mrs. Figg's, and Harry's mind was still whirling with questions: who had the other voice belonged to? What had the man and Mrs. Figg been talking about? How come they had been talking about him?

So many queries and no answers...

Harry shook his mind mentally, trying to rid himself of them all, and then moved into the kitchen where the rest of the family was eating breakfast.

Vernon ordered Dudley to get the mail without a simple acknowledgment that another being had entered the room, but the obese child protested.

"Make Harry get it!"

After a few more seconds of arguing they came to the conclusion that either Harry would get the mail or he would get hit with Dudley's Smeltings stick.

Harry chose the former of the two, and dodged a whack from the stick as he slid out the door.

Absently wondering where Padfoot had been all morning, Harry picked up the letters and glanced through them, noting a postcard from Aunt Marge, a letter for Harry, a bill, a–wait, letter for Harry?

Harry's emerald eyes widened at the thought of a letter for him, and he turned it over in his hands, marveling at the fact that it had his room—or, rather, cupboard--labeled on it as well as his address. Curiously, Harry stared at the purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms on the front.

Vernon called out to him, so the raven-haired boy returned to the kitchen, clutching the letter. He handed the other mail to Vernon, but continued to stare at the envelope in his hands, wondering whether to open it or not.

Before he could decide, Dudley drew attention to the fact that Harry still had something in his ten-year-old hands. Vernon snatched it out of his thin hands with his own pudgy ones quickly.

Vernon's face changed hues so fast that he ended up looking like a bag of Skittles for a few seconds before he finally settled down to an odd palish grey. He stuttered, calling for his wife, who came forward instantly to see the cause of his stammers.

Petunia and Vernon stared at the letter, then one another, then the letter, as if not able to decide what to do, but Harry and Dudley wouldn't have it. They asked for the letter repeatedly, and even demanded it, but were thrown out by Vernon.

Harry and Dudley stared at each other and then dove for the keyhole, but were both pushed out of the way by an enormous black dog that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He looked through the keyhole, tongue lolling out of his mouth in excitement, and ignored the two boys on the floor.

"Nice timing, Padfoot," Harry said sarcastically, realizing Padfoot could easily have grabbed the letter from Vernon.

Dudley scowled at the dog as well, and, for a one bizarre moment, they were on the same team.

"Yeah, couldn't have come when we needed you, eh?" he said angrily at the grim-like dog. It took him a moment to realize what he had just done. "God, I've been hanging around you too much, Potter...I'm starting to talk to animals!"

Harry and Padfoot rolled their eyes simultaneously and resumed listening to the Dursleys' conversation.

Petunia and Vernon paced the kitchen, muttering about what to do about something or other, when they seemed to come to a decision and Vernon stomped out the door from the kitchen to the front yard, to go to work.

Later that day Harry was inexplicably moved from his cupboard to Dudley's second bedroom upstairs. Padfoot, however, was kept in the cupboard under lock an key. Harry opposed and protested this decision desperately, having never slept a night without his dog by his side, but in the end had no choice. It was either the cupboard or the pound.

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**A/N: **So...I updated super fast. two updates in one day...woo! Go me! I think I deserve some reviews for that one! ;)


	6. Chapter Six: Memories

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**

Padfoot?

**by**

**Padfootz-luvr

* * *

**

**A/N: **To those who have beared with me throughout the years, I thank you, and I apologize profusely. To those just joining us: Welcome! This story has been a big, fat, work-in-progress for almost three years now, and I almost abandoned it. ALMOST. Then I sat down, re-read what I had written, and, before I knew it, I made the conscious decision to correct all grammatical and punctuation errors, and to add to it a bit, give it more dimension and depth. So now here we are, reader and author, ready to embark on a new, perilous journey. This time, I primise to not abandon the wheel of the ship.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** :le sigh: I don't own Harry Potter or anythign else you recognize, blah, blah, blah, etc.

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**Chapter Six:**

**Memories

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"Memory

All alone in the moonlight..."-Cats , the musical

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The next day, Harry woke up slightly confused: _where was the warmth that his huge black dog usually provided?_ Then he remembered all the events of the day before and sighed unhappily, hoping that Padfoot would be allowed out of the cupboard tonight. 

He went downstairs to let Padfoot out of the cupboard, but Unvle Vernon came trundling over, ushering the boy into the kitchen to make breakfast againt Harry's protests.

That day, more letters came _(Why so many_, Harry wondered) addressed to Harry as before, but this time the addresses were changed to include his new room. Once again, Harry's Uncle took the letters and destroyed them. Harry heard Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia conversing about the situation in the kitchen.

For the next few days, Harry tried repeatedly to get ahold of one of the letters, as they kept coming in increasing quantities day by day. He also repeatedly kept trying to get into the cupboard under the stairs, where Padfoot was still being kept. He knew that Aunt Petunia had put water in there, but didn't think she put any kind of food.

Eventually Harry tried creeping out of his bedroom during the middle of the night, only to find that the cupboard was locked tight. He rattled the doorknob, trying to get inside, but to no avail. The door was locked tight and wouldn't open, and to top it off Harry didn't even hear Padfoot moving inside.

"No," he muttered, frustrated. He eventually gave up, and leaned, defeated, against the door, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He angrily hit his elbow against the door, at a loss of what to do. He closed his bespectacled eyes tightly against the throbbing in his hand and wished that the door wasn't locked.

Suddenly, there was a _click_.

Stepping away from the door, Harry stared at it suspiciously before, on instinct, trying the handle again. To his immense surprise, it turned easily and the door opened outward, allowing Harry access to the cupboard where his dog was.

"Padfoot!" he cried worriedly, looking with horrified eyes at the motionless body of the huge animal.

At the sound of his name, Padfoot raised his head and tiredly looked at Harry with exhausted grey eyes.

Harry bounded into the cupboard beside his pet, enveloping the animal in a tight hug, ignoring the protesting yelp he received in response.

After what was a one-sided hug of relief, Harry hurried to the kitchen to fetch as much food as he could without it being noticeable, then returned to give Padfoot the food. The ebony-furred canine ate the food quickly, whining slightly for more.

"I'm sorry, boy," Harry apologized. "I can't let Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia know that I opened the cupboard. They'd be furious, they'd lock me in here with you and they'd leave us here for ever! You know they would..."

With what appeared to be an accepting nod, Padfoot let his heavy head fall onto Harry's knee, eyes closing exhaustedly. Harry absentmindedly stroked the soft fur on his companion's head for a while before closing the door, hoping his aunt and uncle didn't notice that it wasn't locked anymore.

Thankfully the Dursleys were too distracted by the increasing letters arriving each day to notice the missing food or the unlocked door, so Harry was able to deliver food to poor Padfoot every night after the rest were all asleep.

Finally, one day, when about a thousand letters came shooting out of the fireplace, Uncle Vernon began to drag them all into the car.

Harry, at the last minute, remembered Padfoot and leapt back out of the car to save his dog. Uncle Vernon followed at a rumbling pace.

Harry got to the cupboard and was about to turn the knob to release his dog but Vernon came around the corner and began pulling the small boy from the door.

Somehow, Padfoot must have known what was happening because he threw his massive body against the door and it fell open. He ran to Harry and then into the car, wagging his tail, very thin despite Harry's attempts at feeding him.

Harry soon followed and got into the car, with only Padfoot to separate him from his cousin.

Vernon had no choice but to bring the dog along, and he drove for a long time before finding a hotel.

Unfortunately, they wouldn't allow pets in the rooms. Padfoot would have to spend the night outside. Harry tried to suggest that he stay there with his dog, but Uncle Vernon wouldn't hear it; the boy would stay in room 17 with them.

"Don't want him to try and steal the car," Uncle Vernon mumbled inanely.

That night, Harry waited until the Dursleys were asleep and then took the room key and the car keys off of Uncle Vernon, who was snoring loudly enough to wake the dead.

Harry crept down the hall, though the creeping was unnecessary as all the people that were awake were all down at the bar and restaurant. Finally Harry made his way to the Dursleys' car, where he was about to unlock the door to see Padfoot but noticed the door was already slightly open-and Padfoot was nowhere to be seen.

Bewildered, Harry looked around frantically, pondering as to where his dog could possibly be, and finally went back inside, hoping that Padfoot would have returned on his own by the morning.

While passing the restaurant/bar, Harry saw something that made him pause: a giant!

He was huge! At least twice the height of a normal person, he sat at the bar next to another man, much thinner and smaller in comparison.

They both had black hair, but the smaller man's was much neater and shorter, to the nape of his neck. The giant's hair was wild and unmanageable-looking, and, though their backs were to him, Harry suspected he had a beard to match.

They were talking in low voices, though the giant's voice would rumble slightly louder again. Harry's turned his head to the side, trying to see their faces...they seemed _very_ familiar...

The giant unexpectedly turned as though feeling the young boy's stare, and saw Harry. At first, a spasm of shock crossed his face, but then...He grinned, almost laughing. What he found so amusing, Harry had no idea. Harry had been right, though:the giant did have a beard, and his eyes were very familiar-looking, crinkling at the corners when he smiled...

The giant leaned to the other man, whose back was still to Harry, and said something.

The other man immediately sat up straight and turned, snapping his head around to look at Harry. He was very handsome, defined features with longish black hair that flopped into his slate grey eyes; however, he was a bit thin, as though he hadn't eaten for several days.

His eyebrows shot up at the sight of Harry, and he got down from his stool to walk over.

Harry panicked, thinking that the man was going to tell Uncle Vernon that he'd left the room.

Harry ran around the side of the restaurant, still inside, and down a hall. He found a small inlet in the hall where the fire extinguisher was kept in a glass case and stood in it, back to the wall, hiding. He closed his eyes and hoped that the men wouldn't find him.

Suddenly, however, he felt a hand on his shoulder. A kind, very familiar-sounding voice said:

"Are you alright?"

Harry opened his eyes and was looking into a pair of dark, concerned- looking ones. The man from the bar was there, with the giant behind him. Harry realized that the man was actually quite tall, nearly six-and-a-half feet, though he had looked much shorter when standing next to the giant, who was about ten to eleven feet tall.

"I-I...um..er..." Harry stammered, looking around. "N-No...I mean, yes, I mean...er..."

"D'yeh need help ter try an' find yer way back t'yer room?" asked the giant, who was peering over the first man's shoulder anxiously.

"I-I...oh, I don't...no...I..." Harry continued to struggle for words, and looked around for help. "Please, please don't tell my uncle that I left! He'll be so angry, and he's already mad at me! I just wanted to see if my dog was okay, but he's not there, and...and...please don't tell my uncle!"

The younger man looked at his companion with a guilty look on his face, though Harry had no idea why. The giant slapped the other man upside the head lightly (though lightly appeared not to be too 'lightly' at all, as the man almost fell over), as though he'd done something.

"What? I didn't know!" the man said to the giant. The giant simply rolled his black eyes in response. The first man sighed. "Oh, c'mon, I...oh well..." He turned back to Harry. "We'll um...um...help you find your dog then...c'mon. My name is Sirius." What an off name..._Why did it sound _so_ familiar_? The man held out his hand to shake, but Harry hesitated.

"Don't worry, he don't bite," the giant chuckled. "'Least, not most of the time..."

"Hagrid!" the man, Sirius said sharply. "Shutup!" The giant called Hagrid gave him a grin from behind his wild beard. Harry gave them a tentative smile and timidly took Sirius' hand.

Suddenly, at the moment their skin touched, Harry felt a shockwave of what could only be memories go through him

_A man with black hair and glasses, he looked just like Harry, helping Harry walk..._

_A woman with thick crimson locks scolding the bespectacled man about something, but she was trying not to laugh..._

_The man in front of Harry...Sirius...changing into a dog that looked exactly like Padfoot...then tugging on the pants leg of another man with dark circles under his eyes..._

_A flash of green light, a woman screaming, and then the most intense pain Harry had ever felt searing through his forehead...  
_  
The visions all shot at Harry so fast he felt his head spinning...Hagrid and the Sirius' faces came back into view just before he felt himself fall onto the carpeted hallway and then there was just black...

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**A/N:** Ta-daaa! Our first appearance of a certain Sirius Black, human form...I'd say he'd be anywhere from 29-32 here, depending on whatever. So, let me know what you think, because reviews feed my writing skills! Well...reviews and pixie sticks, that is. 


	7. Chapter Seven: Padfoot?

**

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**

Padfoot?

by

**Padfootz-luvr

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**

**A/N:** To those who have beared with me throughout the years, I thank you, and I apologize profusely. To those just joining us: Welcome! This story has been a big, fat, work-in-progress for almost three years now, and I almost abandoned it. ALMOST. Then I sat down, re-read what I had written, and, before I knew it, I made the conscious decision to correct all grammatical and punctuation errors, and to add to it a bit, give it more dimension and depth. So now here we are, reader and author, ready to embark on a new, perilous journey. This time, I primise to not abandon the wheel of the ship.

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**Disclaimer: **:le sigh: I don't own Harry Potter or anythign else you recognize, blah, blah, blah, etc.

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**Chapter Seven:**

**Padfoot?

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**

"No more memories..."

-_Phantom of the Opera_, the ALW musical

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"Harry...Harry...can you...Hear me?"

Harry opened his eyes groggily, and gradually the world came into semi-focus; it was still quite fuzzy. There was a shape of a person's face above him, surrounded by some black-Harry assumed that was hair-and behind the shape Harry could see a huge looming mound of brown topped with a mass of black.

"Who are you?" Harry asked. Or, at least, tried to ask. From the perspective of the two raven-haired men before him, it came out as: "Hrr...yumm...?"

"Uh...wha...huh?" the man closest to Harry responded.

"He said something like 'hrr yum'...'least that's what it sounded like t'me," the hugeblobin the background said.

"Thank you for that translation, Hagrid," the closerblob said sarcastically. Harry could practically hear the guy's eyes rolling.

The young boyblinked a couple of times, realizing he couldn't see because of his glasses, or lack thereof. "My...my glasses..." Harry mumbled.

He felt the man closest to him start, as though shocked. "Oh, yeah...yeah, of course...um..." he appeared to bend over and fumble with something.

Then he sat back up and leaned forward, slipping the glasses back on over Harry's ears.

Everything immediately came into focus as the man pulled back.

Harry observed him for a second: _what about this man had triggered such a strong surge of emotions and memories-where they memories? Were they figments of his imagination or shards of long-forgotten dreams?_ Harry pondered these questions as he studied the man's face, trying to remember his name; the shock of those long-forgotten memories-or were they just silly fragments of dreams?-must have addled his brain a bit.

The man closest to him had a young-looking, handsome face, with very defined features: everything about him was sharp and dark, from his stormy grey eyes to his jet-black hair to the charcoal-colored stubble along his jaw. He looked as though he hadn't had a good, decent meal in a while, however, and was very thin. Dark circles were forming under his eyes, too, as though he hadn't slept more than four hours, or so, in a while.

"Who are you?" Harry asked once he had found his voice. Both the men looked startled, and the huge giant, the one called Hagrid, opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish Dudley had once had. It had died within a week after Dudley forgot to feed it.

"Um...we're...I'm..." Hagrid stuttered, while at the same time the closer, younger man said, "He's...we...why...we already told you. Sirius, Hagrid." Sirius gestured to the reespective owners of the said names, staring at Harry as though he were worried about amnesia or something of the like.

"Yes," Harry exasperatedly, staring contemplatively at the two as they stuttered oddly, "I know your names, but what I mean is who are you and how do you know my name?"

"We're...well, I mean, we're not going to hurt you," Sirius explained, his hands gesturing to go along with his words, "if that's what you mean."

_No, that's not what I _mean, Harry thought, though he realy longed to say it. Years of being punished for speaking his mind, however, told him not to, so he didn't say anything.

Harry was still confused, but for some reason he believed this complete stranger. He didn't know why he trusted them; Harry certainly wasn't a trusting person, but he felt like he had met them before, and because of their almost playful demeanor, wasn't afraid in their presence.

Sirius looked at Harry again, straight in the eyes, and Harry almost jumped: this man's eyes were exactly the same as Padfoot's, his dog's!

It had always been a subject of pondering, Padfoot's eyes...they were a stormy grey that always seemed to convey his emotions, and yet, even when they seemed angry or sad, they held a spark of laughter. The inside, near the pupil, was a fierce, dark, stormy grey, forming a sunburst shape around the black void that was the pupil, and then it faded into a light slate color with spiderwebs of black, and then the merged back into black around the rims.

"Padfoot?"

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**A/N:** Love it? Hate it? Etc...If this chapter is weirdly incompatible with the last, please inform me! I was trying to look them over, as it is my revised edition, but I kept stupidly mixing up the revised edition and the old edition. By the way, this will be OotP and HBP compatible. I shall be incorporating theories! (See profile for more info...)

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	8. Chapter Eight: Sirius?

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**Padfoot?**

by

**Padfootz-luvr**

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**A/N:** To those who have beared with me throughout the years, I thank you, and I apologize profusely. To those just joining us: Welcome! This story has been a big, fat, work-in-progress for almost three years now, and I almost abandoned it. ALMOST. Then I sat down, re-read what I had written, and, before I knew it, I made the conscious decision to correct all grammatical and punctuation errors, and to add to it a bit, give it more dimension and depth. So now here we are, reader and author, ready to embark on a new, perilous journey. This time, I primise to not abandon the wheel of the ship.

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**Importaner (it's a word if _I'm_using it)A/N:** I am so sorry about the messed up format of the last chapter! I have been saving them in wordperfect but then I saved the last one as a rich text doc and it just got messed up. Thanks to the anonymous reviewer whose name was a bunch of random letters for pointing it out:grumble: Though if you were to have noticed the previous chapters then you would have noticed that it was just a format mistake and that I'm not actually that stupid :grumble: But anyway! To hell with that...Last chapter was uber short but there was no way to extend it and I had to end it there. I know this is going to disappoint a lot of you but Harry saying "Padfoot" was just him thinking out loud about his dog and Sirius' eyes' resemblance to Padfoot's eyes. Harry is eitehr just not smart enough to make the connection or--and I'm going out on a limb here--his widdle muggley mind just does not jump to the conclusion that his dog is actually a person in disguise. How naive of him. Lol, you know I'm joking! I love you guys, my loverly reviewers and my shameless non-reviewing readers:blows kiss: On with the show! Lonegr chapter for all of yeh.

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**Disclaimer: **:le sigh: I don't own Harry Potter or anythign else you recognize, blah, blah, blah, etc.**

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Chapter Eight:

**Sirius?

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"It was a ball,

it was a blast,

it was a shame it couldn't last..."

-_Dirty Rotten Scoundrels_, the musical

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The man, Sirius, paled considerably.

Harry swallowed, shaking his head slightly to clear it. "I-I'm s-sorry," he stammered nervously. He was embarrassed: there was no way this man could be his dog. Even in his mind it sounded absurd. "My...my dog. His name-well, I was outside and went to the car-that's where he was, y-you see, and the door...well, the door, I mean...er...How did you know my name?"

"We-er...I mean...he...you...er..." the giant Hagrid stuttered, apparently lost for an explanation. Sirius was doing the same. "You...I...um...wait...but...er...no, you see...er...your parents..."

"'My parents'?" Harry echoed, ignoring their stammers; he had a feeling that these men just plain stuttered and stammered and sputtered about frequently. His emerald eyes widened considerably at a new prospect; the one of his parents, that is, not the blubbering men before him. "You knew my parents?"

Sirius grimaced slightly and made a noise somewhere between 'er', 'yes' and 'no'.

Hagrid's ruddy-colored face turned chalk-white and his large black eyebrows knitted together.

"You see-what I meant by 'your parents' was...Um...Well...how...? Do...? What...?" Sirius' mind seemed to be conflicting between asking several questions and answering some of Harry's own.

"Right..." Harry started uncertainly. He had come to the conclusion that these two men were very odd indeed, and he should probably resume his search for Padfoot the next morning. "Well, I-"

"POTTER!"

Harry was interrupted by a loud, booming yell that shook the ground floor.The poor boygulped, recognizing the shout to be that of his Uncle's.

Uncle Vernon was thundering down the hall in their direction at an amazing speed for his thick, short legs. He was still clad in his nightclothes, with a bathrobe tied over them and fuzzy slippers on his feet. His small eyes were squinting in protest of the florescent lights, as though he had just arisen from his bed, which, judging by his sleep apparel, he probably had.

Uncle Vernon reached the trio of ebony-hairedfellows furiously, grabbing Harry by the collar and jerking him toward Uncle Vernon's massive body. Uncle Vernon looked up at the other two men, considerably shorter than Sirius, and positively dwarfed by Hagrid's huge height. He had been so busy shouting after Harry he had obviously not noticed them.

Now that he saw them he apologized politely for the interruption and disturbance, though he looked very appraisingly and critically at their odd robe-like clothing and out-of-place appearances, though the latter was mainly directed at Hagrid's giganteum size. "I'm very sorry if he's been bothering you. He's a little disturbed, in the mind, you see, and sometimes we just can't-"

Harry suddenly felt a burst of courage as his uncle insulted him and decided to stand up for himself, something he hadn't done since Dudley had walloped his skull with a wiffle ball bat after Harry had said he was_ not_, as Dudley put it, a 'skinny green-eyed tree frog with ugly black hair and a needle-nose'.

"I am not," Harry said defensively to Uncle Vernon. The portly man stopped his excuses, and turned to look down at the small, thin boy. Harry forced himself not to cringe or blink, and stared his uncle down defiantly. "You, boy, are in no position to be talking back," Uncle Vernon whispered threateningly.

"If you put one more toe out of line-"

"You'll what?" Sirius interjected angrily, and there was a distinctly canine growl in his voice as he spoke. Harry thought it was either quite brave or quite stupid of Sirius to mess with Uncle Vernon, as even without Sirius being so thin Vernon as easily four times as wide and probably weighed around twice as much as the young man.

Before Uncle Vernon could retort, a gasp was heard slightly down the hall, and Aunt Petunia came scurrying up to the group, her hands covering her mouth.

She assessed the situation: her husband was standing, clutching her nephew's collar tightly, and was being glared at by a tall, familiar- looking man with ebony hair and a giant with a jungle of tangled black hair.

"I'm sorry if he has bothered you," Aunt Petunia whimpered, referring to Harry. "Slightly touched in his head, if-"

"So we've heard," Sirius muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I AM NOT!" Harry repeated, more surely and angrily than before. Everyone turned to him, looking as though they had almost forgotten he was there. Harry was encouraged by having their full attention, and ripped himself from his uncle's vice-like grip. "I am not bloody 'disturbed' or 'touched in the head', contrary to what is apparently popular belief!"

Everyone stared at him for a full five seconds before Sirius' face broke into a wide grin; he was apparently very pleased with what Harry had just said. Still smiling broadly, the raven-haired man turned back to Uncle Vernon and opened his mouth to say something else.

Right then, however, Aunt Petunia chose to speak again. "Have I met you before?" she directed this question at Sirius, who suddenly looked very guilty and nervous.

"Uh-no. Definitely not," he assured her. The tall, thin woman pursed her lips and didn't look very convinced, but nodded anyways. "Anyways, well...er...forgot what I was going to say..."

"_That's_ a change," Hagrid muttered under his breath. Sirius elbowed him in the leg, which wasfar easier to reach than his ribs.

"No, I'm...sure I've seen you somewhere..." Aunt Petunia repeated, furrowing her eyebrows and thinking about it. Suddenly she seemed to come to realization. "Oh...that's it!" "

No it's not!" Sirius protested. You've never met me, honestly!"

Petunia ignored him and continued, "You were one of Lily's freak friends...you were best friends with that prat James Potter, the git Lily married-"

"No, I wasn't, I'm not, I mean, well, you see-HEY! Don't call him that!" Sirius suddenly yelled. He pulled from his pocket a long, thin stick made of a dark, almost black wood.

He pointed it at Petunia and Vernon as though threatening them, and it worked! They looked very scared of the stick indeed.

At Sirius' yell, a few rooms opened, and groggy-looking people poked their heads out to see what was causing the commotion.

"I-I mean..." Sirius stuttered, replacing the stick in his pocket and looking around at the opened door. "S-sorry...um...no, I have never heard of a Lily and James Potter before, and I certainly don't know about any Petunia Dursley, nee Evans, and I_certainly_ don't know about a-"

"Shut up," Hagrid said gruffly, smacking the man on the side of the head. His light hit, though, was quite a bit stronger than he expected, and Sirius nearly fell over.

"Would you stop that? I'm going to get a concussion, man, honestly!" Sirius snapped, rubbing his head where he'd been hit.

"I_have_ met you!" Aunt Petunia insisted once more as the doors in the hall shut, satisfied that the noise was dying down.

"Shut up, no you haven't, Petunia," Sirius said curtly. He turned back to Harry and knelt down to his eye level and put his hands on the small boy's shoulders. "We'll find your dog and return him to the car. Don't worry, alright? See ya later, Harry."

With that Sirius and Hagrid walked briskly down the hall and turned a corner. There was a sharp crack and Harry couldn't even hear their footsteps anymore, and that was odd, since Hagrid's footsteps were quite loud.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia stared open mouthed in the direction in which the two men had left.

Finally they seemed to snap to their senses, and Uncle Vernon stomped off in the same direction, yelling as he turned the corner: "How do you know which car is mine! If I find my car stolen in the morning I'll-!"

But then he stopped, and turned back to Harry and Aunt Petunia. "They're...gone," he said shortly, sounding quite stumped. He shook it off, and pulled Harry again by the collar into the parking lot, with Petunia following.

They soon found Uncle Vernon's car in the exact same spot, exactly the same as Harry had last seen it except now it was occupied by Padfoot in the backseat and the door was closed and locked.

Vernon Dursley and Petunia Dursleycouldn't seem to decide between being shocked or angry, so they settled for an odd, almost indifferent expression, and would have seemed perfectly normal, except they spoke mainlyin monotones, sounded and moved like robots.

"We should just leave right now," Vernonordered gruffly, sharply pointing for everyone to get into the car.Uncle Vernon started the car and began to reverse it.

Suddenly Petunia let loose a small scream that sounded very much like "Dudley" and (asVernon was stopped, or at least wasalmost stopped)ran back into the motel and to the room they were staying in.

Harry looked questioningly at his uncle, who curtly announced that he would watch the car until morning.

Dudley, however, was perfectly fine and in a very deep sleep, judging by his snores that were echoing down the hall as Harry followed Aunt Petunia into their room.

Harry settled back down on the floor with a blanket beneath him and a pillow; the only other option was sharing a bed with Dudley.

Since it was July, there was really no need for any other blankets, so Harry slept soundly til morning when Uncle Vernon's pounding knocks on the door awoke them all, telling them it was time to check out.

As they were leaving, the clerk at the front desk stopped them with a shout, saying they had mail.

There, he had about a hundred letters addressed to Harry, the Dursley's hotel room on the front. Immediately, Uncle Vernon ordered his family and Harry to get in the car.

They did as they were told, and Harry opened the door to a very tired Padfoot.

Harry was now quite suspicious of Padfoot, though he wasn't sure he had reason to be.

He looked at his dog's eyes and saw they were the same as that man's, Sirius'.

As Vernon continued to drive along, Harry decided to try something.

"Sirius!" he suddenly said. Padfoot, who had a moment before been looking over a sleeping Dudley's mountainous shoulders to see the marvelous suburban view out the window, snapped his head around automatically.

Harry gave his dog a very calculating look as the black dog's very un-canine-like eyes were suddenly filled with shock, guilt, and a hint of fear. Fear of what? Harry wondered...

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**A/N:** Review and stuff...:too tired: I feel like I am a-forgetting...oh yes! One reviewer asked why Sirius couldn't just use his magical magicness to open the cupboard and get food. I meant (in the "Voice in the Kitchen" chapter) to have Harry see a "brown stick" lying in the kitchen--which would obviously be Sirius' wand as Figg wouldn't have one--meaning that he left his wand there. :shrug: I'll go back and ass that real quick, then...

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	9. Chapter Nine: The Truth pt 1

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**Padfoot?**

**by**

**Padfootz-luvr**

_

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_**A/N: **To those who have beared with me throughout the years, I thank you, and I apologize profusely. To those just joining us: Welcome! This story has been a big, fat, work-in-progress for almost three years now, and I almost abandoned it. ALMOST. Then I sat down, re-read what I had written, and, before I knew it, I made the conscious decision to correct all grammatical and punctuation errors, and to add to it a bit, give it more dimension and depth. So now here we are, reader and author, ready to embark on a new, perilous journey. This time, I primise to not abandon the wheel of the ship. Thanks a great bunch to all of my reviewers! This is sort of a two part chapter. Thankfully, these two chapters are the ones you have been waiting for!

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**Disclaimer:** :le sigh: I don't own Harry Potter or anythign else you recognize, blah, blah, blah, etc. _

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_

**Chapter Nine:**

**The Truth Pt. 1**

_

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_

"I tears my heart open

I sew myself shut

and my weakness is

that I care too much..."-_Scars,_ Papa Roach_

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_

_He reacted to the name, he reacted to the name!_ The only comprehensible thought that was scrolling across the marquee of Harry;s mind was that one sentence. _He reacted to the name! What could that mean? Does he _know_ that Sirius man? Or was he just being a dog and reacting to my voice...?_

Harry finally decided on the last option. But there was stilla flicker of doubt in his mind, and, especially, in his heart. For some reason he just _knew_ that Sirius and Padfoot were connected, if not one and the same...

'_One and the same'?_ Harry's nasty little voice of reason hissed. _'One and the same'! That's impossible! Now look at you, Harry, you're going just as mad as Uncle Vernon_.

Uncle Vernon, in fact, was now to the point where he was muttering inaudible things incessantly under his breath, taking the sharpest tours and sticking to only the most scenic of routes that led to who-knows-where.

Aunt Petunia's thin lips were pursed into a tiny, invisible line as her bloodshot eyes strayed from the window to shoot increasingly worried looks in her husband's direction. Every now and the she would open her mouth as though to say something but then would simply give a short sigh, knowing that whatever she said would have no influence over Vernon.

Dudley, meanwhile, was becoming oddly docile and even challenged Harry to an almost friendly game of "I Spy". Harry reckoned that Dudley was just so sick of staring at the passing view (Tree...tree...tree...bird!...tree...) that he has actually become delirious. That, coupled with his television withdrawal, was resulting in his tolerance of Harry.

Harry and Dudley eventually settled into a surprisingly intelligent (by Dudley standards) conversation, one which unconsciously moved from one thing to a next until it settled on dogs; Padfoot in particular was the subject of many thought-provoking questions such as "Why do dogs sniff each others' hind quarters as greeting?", "Why does Padfoot not participate in this canine ritual?", and "Why don't female dogs lift up their legs to urinate?"

The topic finally shifted to all of Padfoot's oddities, including but not limited to his ability to understand almost any command (when said by Harry), his very human-like personality, and his eyes.

Padfoot, meanwhile, lay asleep on the faux leather seat, his grey eyes shut off to the world. His legs would twitch every now and then and he would whine, as though in pain.

"Padfoot?" Harry murmured as Dudley ceaselessly chattered on. "Padfoot?" Harry very tentatively nudged his dog on the paw, but was his skin made contact with the soft, coal-colored fur, another wave of memories identical to those he had received when Sirius' hand had touched him sent his mind reeling.

With a quiet cry, Harry drifted off into unconsciousness just as his dog woke form a fitful dream about his best friends, Harry's parents, being murdered.

Everything was black. Blacker than the last time he had passed out. But there was noise around him...indiscernible noise, yes, but noise nonetheless. Low rumblings, almost sounded like voices...but they couldn't possibly be human. What human had such low, slow voices as the ones around him?

Harry blinked open his eyes, startled by more darkness. Where was the light?

The voices were becoming clearer now, not so low and not so slow. Actually, someone was talking quite quickly. Yelling, actually. The voice sounded familiar...male, younger than Vernon and not so rumbly:

"I am his guardian! I will take him and take care of him!"

"How dare you threaten my family, you...you, bloddy magician!"

"'Bloody magician', is that the best you can come up with? Honestly...muggles," the unknown owner of the voice snorted derisively, and Harry heard footsteps come nearer. They were not the thundering footsteps of Uncle Vernon or Dudley, nor were they the pittering click of Aunt Petunia's heels. They were light and precise, nearly soundless from years of sneaking around.

The owner of the footsteps knelt down beside Harry, affectionately, ruffling his hair a bit.

"For now let's let him sleep," the unknown voice whispered from beside Harry. "Poor kid's been through hell with you, he deserves some rest."

"'Been through hell', has he? If you are the almight guardian why didn't you take him instead of staying in _my_ house, eating _my_ food that _I_ paid for!"

"He would have died!" The Voice snapped, but he considerately kept his voice quiet so as not to wake the "sleeping" Harry. "He needed to stay in the same house as Petunia so the blood she shared with her sister would protect him."

"I share no blood with my _sister_!" Petunia's shrill voice came. She sounded muffled, as though she were behind something very large: a couch, a wall, Uncle Vernon, etcetera.

The Voice did not respond to Petunia's outburst but Harry could feel the anger emanating from the Voice's body. The intense energy was as palpable as the hard floor beneath Harry's back, and the from the oppressive silence Harry guessed that the Dursleys could feel it as well.

"From hereafter, no matter what school he goes to (and he _will_ be going to Hogwarts)," The Voice paused, waiting for another routburst which would not come. Then, he continued, "Harry will stay at your house for the summers until he is seventeen. As will I. And you will permit it."

"The hell we will!" came Vernon's roar. "If he's a freak like you and the rest of your freak friends, I want you as far away from my family as possible! Beginning...immediately!"

Harry heard The Voice stand, and there was a rustling of cloth before complete silence. A tense moment, and then: "If you comer any nearer I swear on James' grave that I will blast you and the rest of your family, as you wish, as far away form 'us freaks' as possible. Unfortunately, that could be someplace like a live volcano, so I would watch my step if I were you, _Dursley_!" The last word had a distinctive sneer to it.

"He is going to Hogwarts," The Voice said with studied calm. Harry barely had time to wonder what on earth a 'Hogwart' was before The Voice began again, "and he will stay at your home during summer holidays. Is that clear?"

Harry could only assume the Dursleys nodded, because they made no noise whatsoever.

"Good," The Voice said with false pleasantness. "I suggest we all get some sleep, then."

There was a shuffling of feet as the Dursleys scuttled off to their beds or wherever they would go to sleep, and then Harry felt himself lifted easily by someone—he could only assume that it was The Voice, and was soon set back down on something softer, like a sofa. The Voice kneeled beside Harry and brushed his hair back again before he did something that sounded like laying down on the floor.

From beside Harry on the floor, The Voice sighed, "I'm so sorry, Harry. This shouldn't have been how it turned out at all. You should be living with your parents in a nice home with a Quidditch Pitch out back and enchanted rooms and little Wizard friends like—oh, I dunno...the Weasleys, perhaps. The Bones...That little Longbottom fellow, he's about your age." Another sigh, this time more choked. Harry wished that he knew what the hell The Voice was talking about so maybe he could comfort him a little bit... "But instead you're living with the worst Muggles in the world in a sterilized house with hand-me-down clothes from the only eleven-year-old boy that I have ever mistaken for a small elephant."

Harry almost laughed, almost, but stopped himself at the last minute as The Voice choked back a sob.

"I guess you can blame me for that," The Voice mumbled, almost inaudible. His Voice was turning nasally, as though he were crying. I sounded like he was crying, in fact. How terribly sad...Harry wished he could say something to make The Voice feel betetr, though he wasn't sure why for the life of him he would wish to comfort the voice of a person he didn't even know. After all--

Harry's mind went blank. Absolutely blank as all that Dursley had said and all that The Voice had said sunk in. The Voice had lived with them...how? Magician? Wizard friends? Guardian? Quidditch?...Blame?

Harry's breathing hitched slightly; he hoped fervently it went unnoticed by The Voice. Thankfully, The Voice's breathing had grown deep and even; he was asleep.

_The Voice killed my parents_, Harry thought frantically. And now he wants me to go to Hogwash or something like that—it's probably an orphanage or-or...a slaughetrhouse! For children whose parents had been killed by the stupid, haunting voice...But no. The Voice's voice was lower than the voice that Harry sometimes recalled in dreams : the high-pitched screech of a Voice, almost a falsetto, accompanied frequently by a horrible cackle that made Harry's flesh crawl.

But The Voice blamed himself...for a car accident? Maybe he was the offending driver?

Harry's head began to ache from all the theories, the questions...and not one single answer to put his trouble mind at ease.

As quietly as possible Harry sat up, feeling to make sure his glasses were in place. They were, good. Not that he could see anything, but Harry felt thoroughly reassured at the feeling of something familiar weighing down at his ears and nose slightly.

Harry stepped around where he thought the voice was, then stopped. _What time was it?_ Harry wondered. Without a further thought the boy leaned down to where he felt The Voice—or, rather, a very long, tall man lying on the floor fast asleep. Harry very carefully felt The Voice's left wrist for a watch and, to Harry's happiness, he found one.

Harry felt for buttons on the side but found none, and in frustration he tapped the glass that covered the face. To his amazement, a pulsing purple glow lit up the face; however, there were no numbers, only some strange symbols which the curling, crooked hands pointed to haphazardly. Sighing loudly, Harry dropped the watch (and, incidentally, the wrist with it) to the floor.

"Ouch!" The Voice exclaimed.

Harry gasped, moving away. The Voice sat up, his silhouette illuminated by the purple glow.

"Ouch," The Voice repeated more quietly. He rubbed his wrist and stared at Harry slightly; Harery could feel the penetrating gaze. "Harry? What were you doing?"

The Voice took on a kinder, gentler tone than it had ever had previously and Harry recognized it as belonging to the regular-sized (in comparison to the giant) man.

"...Sirius!" Harry asked in surprise.

"Glad to know you recognize me," The Voice-no, Sirius-muttered sarcastically. Then he repeated, "What were you doing?"

"I-I was just...trying to...the time?" Harry stammered, unsure how to phrase it. No matter how he said it it sounded odd, looking at a complete stranger's wristwatch, but Harry decided that anything would have been better than how it actually came out in the end.

"'The time'?" Sirius echoed, perplexed. He soon came to realization with a mild jolt. "Oh...Oh! Yeah, yeah, the time. It's...um..." The dark-haired man mutetred something in another language to his watch, then continued: "It's, er...Eleven fifty-eight at night."

"Do you by chance have the date on that thing?" Harry asked, surprised at his own boldness.

Sirius didn't seem to notice a thing, however, and said another odd word to his watch. "Yeah, it's, uh...Thirtieth of July."

"I turn eleven in two minutes," Harry murmured softly to himself.

"What was that?" Sirius asked absently. "_Nox._" The purple glow dissipated, leaving the pair in utter darkness once again.

"Oh, it's, uh, my eleventh birthday in two minutes," Harry repeated.

"So it is," Sirius confirmed, and Harry could swear that he detected a slight smile in the voice. "Well, happy early birthday, Harry."

"Thanks," Harry answered. How was it that a complete stranger was kinder about his birthday than the Dursleys, who were not only family but his caretakers since he was a baby, had ever been? Harry opened his mouth, about to spill out all the questions he had for Sirius that were burning in the back of his throat, but they all disappeared as there were three ear-blasting knocks from the door.

_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_

There was a thump from the next room and Harry strongly suspected that someone had fallen out of bed—and he secretly hope that it had been Uncle Vernon.

"Ah, Hagrid's here," Sirius managed to say before three more great booms sounded at the door.

_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOO-Crash!_ As Hagrid knocked the fourth time, the already rickety door came flying off its hinges and the great hairy giant stood in the doorway, his impressive silhouette completely filling it up.

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**A/N:** Love it? Hate it? Somewhere in between? Let me know! Everything from suggestions to squees to flames are welcome!

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